Beatles fond d’écran

Paul dreamed about John that night.
It wasn't a typical dream where something was going on and John just happened to montrer up in it. There wasn't much background in the dream at all, just a lot of misty white, and John was there, smiling like he always had back when they had been best Friends and seen each other every day. The first thing Paul did when he saw him was to throw his arms around his friend and start crying.
"Shh," John soothed, though accepting Paul's hug with surprisingly good grace. "You don't want to look soft. Stiff upper lip and all that."
"I miss you, John," Paul whispered.
"I'm...

The head policeman turned to the others surrounding the Beatles. "That's them, the boys we're looking for. It's the same British boys that were causing trouble all last month."
Paul was nervous. "Could we just give toi our autograph and promise not to do it again?" he tried, lowering his eyelids charmingly and hoping this would help.
At the same time, Ringo's head swivelled from one police officer to the suivant uncertainly. "But - what about our show...?"
At that point, a new voice broke through from just behind the police officers. "Paul? Have toi got him? Is he all right?"
Paul's cœur, coeur sank. "Not...

Jim McCartney was sitting in his hotel room the suivant morning, feeling upset and tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and neither had the Harrisons. They had been in New York for over a week now, and still no sign of their sons. Jim was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to see Paul again.
The British band he had heard of, the one he'd been so certain would lead him to Paul, had vanished off the radar. Maybe they knew the police were looking for them and had slipped quietly underground. They would have taken Paul and the Harrisons' boy, George, with them, and who knew where they...

Jim McCartney couldn't sleep. All jour long, he'd turned what the police had told him about this mysterious British band over in his mind. How they had come to New York from England. How they all seemed to want to be rock musicians. And how one of them was calling himself James.
It was silly, Jim knew. Paul couldn't have gotten all the way to New York on his own! For one thing, the airlines wouldn't have allowed it. But he might not have been travelling alone, Jim remembered. There were three other boys in this band, who would have had to come over from England too. Could Paul have really formed...

Harold Harrison went straight to the police station and waited in line. It was a different officer this time he spoke to, a plus personable man than the last one.
"A check of the Liverpool airports? One moment, sir. I'll see what we've turned up." He turned around to some workers behind him and made some inquiries. "All right, let's see what's turned up. I'm sure we'll find your son," he added kindly. "Here we are... teenagers at the airport yesterday... no reports of any teenagers who weren't with their parents... except this one, here."
Mr Harrison raised his head immediately. "Where? Is it...

Back in Liverpool, things with the Harrisons were not going nearly so well. When the plane had taken off without Geo, Mrs Harrison had made her way purposefully to the front and insisted that the plane crew radio down to the New York airport and tell them to find her missing son. The crew had listened to her, but par that time, Geo had already left with Paul, Ringo, and Winston. So when the airplane landed in Liverpool, the Harrisons rushed to the front bureau and demanded news of their son. The Liverpool agent got in touch with the New York airport and listened for a minute ou two, only to turn...